Jason glanced up, but his expression didn't show the surprise that question should have brought. "Since before Derek was born."
James couldn't quite conceal his own surprise at that answer and the obvious conclusion it brought. "Good God . . . well, damn it all, Jason, why the deuce have you never told any of us?"
"You think I didn't want to? I'd shout it from the rooftops if it were my choice, but it's not. Molly had valid reasons for wanting the truth about us kept secret, even from Derek—at least she managed to convince me those reasons were valid. I'm not so sure anymore, but that's a moot point after all these years of secrecy.''
"Why don't you just marry the woman and have done with it?" James said reasonably.
Jason laughed without humor. "I'm trying to. I have been trying to since the divorce from Frances, but Molly won't budge in her refusal. She's got this gigantic scandal imagined in her mind and she refuses to inflict it on the family."
James raised a golden brow. "On the family? When has this family not had a scandal brewing of one sort or another?"
Jason raised a brow himself. "True, to which you, for one, made sure of."
James chuckled at his brother's censorious tone. "Let's not get into that. I'm reformed, don't you know."
Jason shook his head bemusedly. "I still can't credit how that came about."
"Love, of course. It does produce amazing miracles. Speaking of which, it's looking like I'll need one of those to get out of this confounding situation with George. If I find one, Jason, I'll be sure to pass it along, since you seem to be in need of a miracle yourself as well."
Remembering that conversation with his brother, James had a feeling that Jason might have found his miracle, thanks to their grandmother, yet one hadn't dropped into his own lap yet. But enough was enough and tomorrow he'd tell his wife so. Tonight he was simply too tired. Tonight he'd probably say something he'd end up regretting, and then he would have something to apologize for.
He walked away, but no more than three steps were taken before he spun about and pounded on her door. To hell with waiting. He was tired, yes, but he was even more tired of sleeping alone.
From inside the room he heard, "It's open."
James frowned down at the doorknob, tried it. Damned if it wasn't open. Bloody hell. It would have to be open the one time he made a racket pounding on it rather than just checking it first.
He entered the room, closed the door, then leaned back against it, crossing his thick arms over his chest. Georgina was sitting on the bed, wearing the white silk negligee and robe that he'd given her last Christmas. She was brushing her long brown hair. He always enjoyed watching her do that—another thing he'd been denied lately.
He raised a brow at her and asked dryly, "Forget to lock the door?"
"No," she said simply.
The golden brow lifted just a bit higher. "Don't tell me you've gotten all maudlin over the elders' love story and decided to forgive me because of it?"
Her sigh was loud enough to hear across the room "Maudlin, no. Finally realizing that putting this off isn't going to make it go away, yes, their story did help me to see that the unavoidable can't be avoided. So you may as well know, there's nothing to forgive you for, James.”
"Well, I always knew that, but what the devil d'you mean by nothing?"
She lowered her gaze and mumbled something that he couldn't make out. This had him crossing the room to stand in front of her. He lifted her chin. Her large brown eyes were inscrutable. She'd learned how to do that from him.
"Let's try this again, shall we?" he said. "Now, what d'you mean, there's nothing to forgive me for?"
"I was never angry with you. The way I've been behaving had nothing to do with you—well, it did, but not for the reason I let you think. I was already upset about something else when Jack said what she did. I used that as an excuse, because I wasn't ready to fess up to the other. I didn't want to upset you."
"I hope you know, George, that you haven't made one bloody bit of sense. Didn't want to upset me? Do I look like I haven't been upset?"
His frown answered that question quite satisfactorily. She actually smiled.
"Let me rephrase that," she suggested. "I didn't want to upset you with what was really bothering me, which was not wanting to upset you at all."
He made a sound of frustration at that point. "I know it's American reasoning that makes what you say sound like gibberish to the English mind, but do try—"
"Rubbish," she cut in with a snort. "I'm just still hedging, is all."
"Good of you to own up to that, m'dear. Now own up to why."
"I was getting to that," she continued to hedge.
